Friends and Foes
by Northumbrian
Summary: Harry and his friends finally know who killed Ginny and Luna's classmate, Colin Creevey. It is 2001, and the search has been ongoing for a year. Will those final few foes who escaped justice at the end of The Battle ever be brought to justice?
1. Prologue: A Surrey Start

**Prologue: A Surrey Start**

Easter Saturday was pleasantly warm and sunny.

The sky was the almost unreal poster paint blue of a child's painting, as bright as an early spring day could be. The few clouds scattered across the firmament appeared to have been stuck onto it by a child; they were high and fluffy wisps of cotton wool white. An almost imperceptible south westerly wind blew softly along the street, barely rustling the leaves of the well-trimmed hedges which ensured that the street lived up to its name.

It was such a nice afternoon that many of the residents of Privet Drive were outside tending to their gardens. There were lawns to be mown, herbaceous borders to be weeded and flowers to be watered. Those who were disinterested in gardening busied themselves in other ways. They had large and expensive cars, which needed to be ostentatiously washed and polished. The street was typically quiet; secateurs snipped and hoses sprayed; the loudest noise was the contented whir of happily grazing lawnmowers.

As they worked in their gardens, some of the residents nodded politely to their neighbours. One or two wives actually spoke to each other, but in the main, the residents of Privet Drive behaved naturally. They stayed within the boundaries of their individual castles, keeping themselves entirely to themselves.

The peaceful suburban idyll was shattered when a large black motorcycle thundered noisily around the corner from Magnolia Crescent. To the annoyance of the locals this unwelcome intruder did not, as expected, roar off down the road. Had it done so, it would have allowed them to shake their collective heads and mutter under their breath about young hooligans on motorbikes. Instead, as the residents watched in abject horror, the bike slowed and rolled to a halt. The rider switched off the engine, and an expectant hush fell across the street. In the silence, everyone took careful note of where this hateful machine had stopped.

It was number four. Of course, where else would it be? The Dursleys had visitors, and those visitors were riding a motorcycle! En masse, the eyes of Privet Drive stared. The tasks they had, until then, been diligently supervising were forgotten as they concentrated their collective gaze on this undesirable invader.

Mr and Mrs Dursley had been the subject of much gossip among their neighbours. Almost four years ago the Dursleys had disappeared. Their house had been left empty and untended, their lawn had grown wild, weeds had crept through into the neighbouring gardens, and the privet hedge had remained untrimmed, steadily transforming itself into a wild, overgrown, and litter-filled tangle. The place had looked untidy. It had brought shame upon the entire street.

Worse, during the Dursley's absence strangely dressed men had been seen in the neighbourhood. These furtive outsiders were often seen hanging around number four. Some residents were convinced that, for a time, these odd, cloak-wearing individuals had actually been living in the house. It was all very strange and mysterious, and not at all what should be happening on Privet Drive!

Then in May almost three years ago, nine months after their disappearance, the Dursleys had returned. They had unpacked their car and tried to act as though nothing had happened. Vernon Dursley cut his grass and trimmed his hedge, but the other inhabitants were curious. Where had they been? What had they been doing?

Mr Dursley, red faced and spluttering, had told his curious neighbours that they had been on a world cruise. When politely asked for more details he seemed strangely unable to name any of the places they had visited. His gruff answers of "abroad" and "foreign parts" really were not much of an explanation for a nine month holiday, not even for the notoriously bluff and uncommunicative Vernon Dursley.

Eventually, unable – or unwilling – to explain their absence, Mr and Mrs Dursley had simply stopped speaking to the other residents. Now, for the first time in many years, they had visitors; at least visitors other than Vernon Dursley's sister.

The neighbours were intrigued. Who were the mysterious couple on the motorbike? What could they possibly want with the Dursleys? The hosepipes which had been busily washing cars were turned off. Lawnmowers came to a halt. Gardening gloves were removed; secateurs and trowels were laid on the grass. The curious residents stood and silently watched the arrival of these mysterious strangers.

Both rider and pillion passenger wore black denim jeans and leather jackets. Their jackets seemed to somehow catch the sunlight on their scaly, almost snake-like, black-green surface. The only difference between the riders was their helmets. The rider wore a red helmet, trimmed with yellow and with a yellow image painted on each side. One particularly sharp eyed (and heraldically aware) resident identified the image as a lion rampant. The passenger's helmet was dark green and it had a yellow talon painted on the sides.

The pillion passenger was small in stature, and very definitely female. The moment the bike stopped, she stood up from her seat. From her elevated position, standing on the bike's foot pegs, she had a good view down the street at the staring residents. She pulled off her helmet and shook out a mane of unnecessarily vibrant and blatantly red hair. The face beneath the helmet was that of a pretty, freckle-faced girl who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. The girl smiled, and waved at the curious onlookers. The scandalised residents of Privet Drive looked away, trying to ignore such ostentatious and uncalled for friendliness.

Shrugging her shoulders dismissively, the girl swung her leg over the bike and stepped down onto the pavement, reducing her height by about a foot. The locals continued to watch, but now they exhibited a little more caution. Their sidelong stares were rewarded when the rider pulled off his helmet to reveal a bespectacled young man with tousled black hair. Several of the residents exchanged knowledgeable glances with each other. They recognised the young hooligan immediately. It was the Potter boy! He was back, and he would be certain to cause trouble, there was no doubt about that!


	2. Easter in Little Whinging

**Little Whinging**

Ignoring the surreptitious stares of his aunt and uncle's neighbours, Harry kicked down the side stand and leaned his bike into the kerb. He made sure that the machine was secure before letting go of the handlebars and swinging his leg over the seat. He then bent over and carefully examined the motorcycle.

'Ginny, when you dismount, could you kick your foot peg up, please?' he asked.

Ginny Weasley looked puzzled. Harry pointed to the footrest on the offside of the bike.

'The kick-starter swings down there,' he explained. 'The first time I tried to start the bike, yesterday, that peg was in the way. I nearly broke my foot.'

'You don't actually need to start the bike like that, Harry,' Ginny pointed out. 'It doesn't even need to make all that noise. You, Dad, Ron and George have spent a year rebuilding the thing, adding all sorts of magic, and yet you insist on riding it as if it was an ordinary Muggle machine.'

'I'm trying to be inconspicuous, to blend in,' said Harry, smiling. 'We spend most of our time in the Muggle world, Ginny, so I want to be able to arrive at places looking like a Muggle.'

Harry's girlfriend shrugged, stepped around the bike, and used her booted toe to kick the peg up.

'Better?' she asked.

'Thanks.' Harry grinned. He grabbed the handlebars in his left hand and the pillion grab bar in his right, put his right foot on the centre-stand and with an easy rocking motion rolled the bike back onto the main stand. Satisfied that the bike was stable, he kicked the side stand back in place and turned to his girlfriend.

'Well, what do you think?' he asked.

'I prefer brooms,' said Ginny, 'I like being in control when I'm flying. But, I have to admit, there is one rather pleasant advantage.'

'What's that?'

Ginny grabbed Harry's shoulder, turned him around, and stepped behind him.

'This,' she said, sliding her hands around his waist, under his jacket, and up onto his chest, 'is a very comfortable riding position.' She pulled herself close and rested her head on his back.

'I enjoyed it too,' Harry smiled over his shoulder. Ginny released him and he turned to face her.

'What do we do with these things? She asked, holding up her helmet. Harry fumbled with the bike seat, lifted it and pointed to a small metal hook.

'Hang them on there, use the helmet strap,' he demonstrated.

Ginny copied him, and he dropped the seat back into place.

'You're crazy you know.' Ginny shook her head in disbelief. 'You're as bad as Dad.'

'I don't think your dad is crazy,' said Harry, sounding shocked. 'He's extremely enthusiastic about Muggle technology, but not crazy.' He grinned as she chuckled. 'Like I said, we need to be able to get about in the Muggle world without attracting attention. The bike is a good way to do it. Do you want me to tell you why we rebuilt it—again?'

Ginny sighed and looked up at her boyfriend, a mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes.

'It was Sirius' bike, now it's yours. It's a Triumph, a British classic. It's been rebuilt to the original specification. That was the easy part. It's been re-registered in your name so you're the legal owner. It's got all of the relevant paperwork, just in case the Muggles want to check it. You got George to help you with most of the enchantments, not Dad. That's why the invisibility booster actually works, though you're much too polite to tell Dad that. The shield spell works properly too, and unlike Dad's old car it flies smoothly.'

She clasped her hands behind her back and put on her most demure expression. 'Have I passed?' she asked innocently.

Harry laughed.

'You _were_ paying attention when I was talking to Ron yesterday! You surprise me, Chaser Weasley.'

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

'I always pay attention. I like to know what you're doing, Auror Potter. Full marks to me! Again! Where's my prize?'

Harry leaned forward, slid his hand into her hair, pulled her gently towards him and kissed her. He was oblivious to the outrage that this public act of affection caused among the still watching residents of Privet Drive. Ginny gently pushed him away.

'I'll accept that as a partial payment, I'll take the rest later,' she said. Harry grinned, he was about to speak, but Ginny stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and gave him her best "Molly" glare.

'I know what you're doing, Harry,' she scolded gently. 'You're trying to delay the inevitable. We're here to visit your family—so let's do it.' She took his hand and led him up the drive towards the front door of number four Privet Drive.

'This is it?' she asked. 'Your home, until you were seventeen?'

Harry shook his head in emphatic denial.

'My home until I was eleven.' He scowled as he spoke. 'After that, Hogwarts—and the Burrow—were my homes. I had more happy times there than I ever did here.'

Ginny was shocked at the venom in his voice. Her boyfriend's time at school had been difficult and dangerous, on occasions it had been close to fatal! But he thought that this place was worse. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

'Was it really that bad?' she asked gently.

Harry nodded. 'I told you I'd be happy if I never saw them again. I was telling the truth. We had the Easter weekend to spend together, Ginny. Instead we're here today, at The Burrow tomorrow, and visiting the Grangers on Easter Monday.'

'They _are_ your only relatives Harry,' she reminded him. 'We're spending our three days off visiting our families.'

'And they hate me,' Harry replied as they reached the front door. 'I can guarantee that I'll get a warmer welcome at The Burrow and at the Grangers place. There's no car on the drive, they're probably out for the day. Let's just go.'

Ginny shook her head firmly, reached past Harry, and rang the doorbell.

'You weren't quite seventeen the last time you saw them, Harry,' said Ginny. 'You'll be twenty-one this year. If it doesn't work out, we need never come back, I promise.' Harry looked into Ginny's sparkling and earnestly pleading eyes. His heart melted.

She meant well, he knew that. Ginny came from a large, boisterous and loving family, a family he regarded as his own. His girlfriend simply could not comprehend his reluctance to visit Little Whinging. No matter how often he'd told her of the life he'd led before Hogwarts, she refused to believe that the Dursleys had no redeeming features.

There were times when the spectre of Harry's childhood still haunted him. This visit, as Ginny had made him realise, was the only way to lay the ghost to rest. But no one came to the door.

'No-one in.' Harry said, turning to go. But Ginny rang the bell a second time.

'Just a minute,' an annoyed, and instantly recognisable, voice shrilled. Harry heard a security chain being put in place and the door being unlocked. Ginny pushed him forwards as the door opened a crack. A familiar, horsey, face peered through the gap.

'Harry!' said Aunt Petunia in a shocked whisper before collapsing on the hall floor in a faint.

Harry pushed at the door. The chain only allowed it to open a couple of inches, but as a fully trained and qualified Auror, a simple Muggle security device was no problem for him. Carefully hiding his actions from the neighbours he pulled his wand from his jeans and unfastened the chain.

Avoiding the crumpled figure of his aunt, Harry carefully pushed his way into the house. He looked down at the figure lying supine on the floor: apron, rubber gloves and cleaning cloth. Some things didn't change Harry realised. But she was smaller than he remembered. She was taller than Ginny, but much smaller than he was, and so thin and bony. Harry knelt down beside his aunt, wondering what to do.

'Carry her into the living room,' Ginny instructed, as she stepped into the hall beside him and closed the front door. 'Where is it?'

'First door on the left,' Harry told her.

Ginny strode past him and opened the living room door. Carry her? How? Harry panicked. He could not think of any time when he'd actually touched his Aunt Petunia, or vice versa. She had smacked him, pulled him, pushed him and shouted at him. Had there ever been any simple, human, contact?

He took a deep breath _it doesn't matter who it is, she needs my help_ he told himself. He put one arm under her shoulders, the other under her knees; and stood. Petunia was no weight at all. Ginny was heavier, and he could carry her easily, provided she didn't struggle; although it was usually more fun when she did. He smiled to himself before pushing memories of good times with Ginny from his mind. Carefully, Harry carried his aunt into the spotless living room. As he gently placed her on the sofa, she began to stir.

Harry stood, unzipped his dragonskin motorcycle jacket and threw it onto one of the armchairs. It created a pleasing clutter in the antiseptic cleanliness of his aunt and uncle's living room. Ginny took her cue from Harry and did the same. The short, low cut, bright yellow top she was wearing under her jacket revealed her stomach, shoulders and arms. She looked in interest at Harry's shirt. It was a replica International Quidditch shirt with "England" written across the front and "Weasley Chaser" written on the back.

'Those shirts don't go on sale for another week,' she observed.

'I have contacts.' Harry smiled. 'Do you want one?'

'I think they'll give me the real thing before the game,' said Ginny.

'It would be more of a distraction to the opposition if they didn't,' said Harry, straight-faced. Ginny laughed.

'I don't think that my boyfriend would approve,' she told him.

'You're right, he wouldn't,' Harry agreed. They grinned at each other.

His aunt sighed; he crouched down in front of her, still unsure of what to do. _If it was anyone I knew, I'd be comforting them by now._ That thought brought him up sharply. Anyone he knew! This was the woman whose house he'd lived in for half of his life, yet he didn't know her at all. Petunia sobbed.

'Aunt Petunia,' Harry said softly. 'How are you?'

'I'll go and get a glass of water,' Ginny said. 'Kitchen?'

'Turn left in the hall, the door's straight ahead,' replied Harry. 'Thanks, Ginny.'

'Aunt Petunia?' Harry asked again. 'Are you all right now?'

'Harry,' Petunia whispered, and burst into tears. Harry was horrified. He stood, reached into the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a clean handkerchief. He again crouched down in front of his aunt and pressed the handkerchief into her hands. Petunia took it and dabbed her tears daintily. She was beginning to regain control when Ginny re-entered the room, carrying a glass of water. Petunia looked her disdainfully up and down and gave her the glare she usually used for the most stubborn of stains.

'Aunt Petunia,' Harry said, 'this is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, she's brought you a glass of water. Ginny, this is my Aunt Petunia.' Petunia reluctantly held out her hand to take the glass.

'Hello, Aunt Petunia,' Ginny smiled politely, handing her the water. Petunia glowered at Ginny, then at Harry, but did not reply. She sat, sipping water in silence, and dabbing at her face with Harry's handkerchief. The uneasy silence seemed as if it would never end, but eventually, Petunia spoke.

'What do _you_ want?' she demanded.

Harry could feel his temper rising. Why had he bothered coming?

'Sorry,' he said to Ginny.

'It's not your fault, Harry,' Ginny said. She folded her arms under her breasts, turned, and glared into Petunia Dursley's face. Harry watched as his aunt quailed under the blazing gaze of his petite tigress.

'Harry is here because I insisted that he bring me. We've been going out for almost five years, and I've never really met you. You are the only family he has. He told me that you wouldn't be pleased to see him, I didn't believe him. Apparently I was wrong. After I've met the rest of your family we can leave and never come back, if that's what you want.'

Petunia set her jaw and silently pondered Ginny's offer.

'Where are Uncle Vernon and Dudley?' asked Harry.

'Not here,' said Petunia unhelpfully.

Ginny calmly changed tactics and tried again. 'I realise that it's a bit of a shock us turning up unannounced like this,' she said. 'But, I would like to meet your family. Harry knows mine, and I don't know his, it seemed a little unfair to me.' Ginny looked carefully at Petunia, 'Your sister was Harry's mum, right?'

Petunia nodded and Ginny continued to try to charm Harry's aunt.

'So you and your son are Harry's only blood relatives.' Ginny gave Petunia her best smile, the one that could persuade Harry to do anything, 'I'd like to meet Dudley, is he here?'

It was as if a dam had burst. Petunia started talking very quickly.

'No, he didn't come back—stayed at university—up there—even managed to get a summer job last year—he only came back for his birthday. We hardly ever see him. My baby's gone!'

Ginny knelt down in front of Petunia and held her hands. To Harry's amazement, Petunia didn't pull away.

'That's what happens,' said Ginny in a low and comforting voice, 'My eldest brother is married with a baby daughter, the second lives in Romania, the third and fourth have flats in London but Percy will be moving back to Devon soon, because he's getting married.' Ginny paused and watched Petunia consider her words.

'Harry lives with my brother, Ron, and I live in a terraced house in Beaumaris.' Ginny grinned at Harry as she said this. While technically correct, in fact Ron spent most of his time at Hermione's flat and Ginny stayed with Harry whenever her training schedule would allow. 'My Mum and Dad have no kids at home now, either. But we'll see them tomorrow. We visit them regularly.'

'D-D-Dudley doesn't visit,' Petunia said, and she began crying again.

Ginny stood and looked at Harry.

'You try,' she whispered. 'Just talk to her.' She then spoke normally, 'Would you like a cup of tea, Aunt Petunia?'

Petunia nodded.

'I'll go and make one for us, shall I?' Ginny walked out of the living room leaving Harry, once again, alone with his aunt.

'Is—is there anything I can do to help, Aunt Petunia?' He asked. There was no reply.

'Where is Dudley? Could you give me his address? I could go and talk to him. I don't even know where the Order took you…' Harry stopped suddenly—because I didn't ask, he realised—I didn't care.

'North,' Petunia spat the word venomously. 'Newcastle—horrible place—nosey neighbours—Dudley's still there. It's all gone wrong, and it's your fault.'

'But Hestia and Daedalus kept you safe for nine months. They brought you back here, after—after the battle. They set things up as if you'd never been away. Tonks set up the world cruise story the day after you left. She even arranged things so that Uncle Vernon would be able to keep his job.'

After the battle, Harry had spoken at length to both Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle. They had kept the Dursleys safe, and had suffered constant complaints from them while doing so. Dedalus in particular had been persistently harangued and insulted by Uncle Vernon. Despite providing the Dursleys with a pleasant house, and managing to get Dudley enrolled in the local private school, the only thanks the two had ever received had been from Harry.

It was his discussions with Hestia, some weeks after the final battle, which had made Harry decide not to get back in touch with his family. Hestia had been more forthright than Dedalus, who could not, it seemed, be impolite about anyone. Harry had resolved to wait until the Dursley's contacted him. They hadn't.

There was a creak as the front door open.

'Petunia,' Uncle Vernon bellowed from the hall. 'The neighbours were all watching me, and there's a ruddy great motorbike parked on the road outside—WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?'

Harry was on his feet the second Uncle Vernon's initial shout transformed into ear-shattering apoplectic rage. He pulled open the living room door and stepped into the hall in front of Vernon. Harry's uncle had been striding down the hall towards Ginny, who was carrying a tray from the kitchen. Vernon's face, which had already reached red when Harry stepped into the hall, deepened to an unpleasant shade of puce when he saw his nephew.

'Hello, Uncle Vernon,' said Harry. As he placed himself between Ginny and his uncle, his heart was thundering in his chest. 'This is my girlfriend, Ginny, and that's my bike outside. We thought that we'd come and visit.'

'YOU!' Vernon yelled, 'OUT! GET OUT NOW! How dare you—motorbike—girlfriend! Hah, she's one of YOUR LOT isn't she? Like those FREAKS you sent us away with! Will you never leave us alone? We don't want your type around here.'

Harry found himself backing away from his uncle, being pushed backwards into the kitchen by the force of Vernon's anger. He held up his hands, palms facing Vernon Dursley. As he backed through the kitchen door he looked around to see Ginny putting the tray down on the worktop.

'Fine, we'll go,' he told Vernon angrily. 'We'll leave now. C'mon Ginny, let's get out of here.'

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and held it tightly.

'Harry, you're a trained and qualified Auror; you're the bravest person I know. Why are you letting this overweight and self-opinionated old fool bully you?'

Vernon stopped at Ginny's words.

'What did you just say?' he bellowed. His jowls quivering like blackcurrant jelly, Vernon rounded on Ginny and raised an admonishing finger.

Harry released Ginny's hand and stepped forwards, once again interposing himself between Vernon and Ginny. He was now almost toe to toe with his uncle and was surprised to discover that they were about the same height. He glared at Vernon, their faces only inches apart. Dumbfounded, Vernon closed his mouth with a snap.

'Uncle Vernon,' said Harry in a menacingly quiet voice. 'Shut up and listen.'

'I'm twenty years old, I'm an adult. I have Ginny, I have lots of friends and I'm happy,' he announced. 'You can't bully me, not now.'

As he spoke, Harry realised the truth of his own words. This sudden insight amazed him. He smiled at his uncle. It had been worth the visit for this moment. Vernon glared in disgust and incomprehension at Harry. He sneered.

'Friends …' Vernon began dismissively. For a second Harry was confused; then he remembered who he was talking to. Friends and happiness meant nothing to Vernon, _money, that's what he understands_ Harry remembered. He interrupted his uncle and tried again.

'I was left a lot of money by my parents and even more by my godfather. I live in my own house, with a servant, and I have a well paid job. I'm wealthy _and_ happy,' Harry told his uncle. Vernon was so surprised that he fell silent.

As the colour drained from his uncle's face, Harry examined him closely. Vernon Dursley looked ill. His hair and moustache were greying and unkempt, his flabby purple veined jowls were badly shaved, his eyes were watery and his breathing laboured. This wasn't the massive malevolent monster who had bullied and terrorised young Harry; this was a pathetic, ill, old man. How old was he, Harry wondered; fifty? He was unlikely to be much more than that, but he looked at least ten years older.

'You can't take Ginny or my friends from me; and you can't frighten me, not anymore.' Harry said calmly.

Vernon took a step backwards.

'You don't know Ginny, so you have no reason to insult her.' Harry took a step forwards. 'If you want us to leave, just ask us, but please do it politely,' he continued. The sudden change in the situation was making him lightheaded. 'I would like to finish my conversation with Aunt Petunia before we leave. Is that okay? She and Dudley are my only blood relatives.'

Uncle Vernon took another step back, away from Harry. He seemed cowed by Harry's changed attitude and gave a curt nod, as if he couldn't trust himself to speak.

'Let's go into the living room.' Harry said politely. 'Would you like some tea? It might help you calm down.'

Uncle Vernon nodded again. Harry wondered how long this new Vernon would last. Minutes at most, he suspected.

'I'll get another cup,' said Ginny brightly as Harry followed his uncle out of the kitchen.

Vernon sat down on the sofa beside his wife and, to Harry's astonishment, put his arm around her. Harry sat down in the empty armchair.

'So,' Harry began 'Where is Dudley? Is he still in Newcastle?'

'Yes,' Petunia said quietly. She looked at her husband and was about to speak when Ginny came into the room, a tray in her hand.

'I've brought milk and sugar, as I didn't know how you like your tea,' she said politely to Vernon and Petunia. 'Will you help yourselves, or do you want me to pour?'

'I will do it, thank you,' replied Petunia, almost choking on the last two words. Ginny nodded and picked up the two cups she'd already poured.

'Tea, strong, milky, no sugar,' she announced, handing Harry a cup. She glanced at the second armchair, which contained their jackets, decided not to move them and instead sat on Harry's knee.

'Thanks, Ginny,' said Harry. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed it gently. Her smile told him that she understood the gesture; she knew he wasn't simply thanking her for the tea. Harry was also grateful that she was there. Her presence was both calming and reassuring him.

The two couples watched each other in suspicious silence. Petunia, Harry sensed, was on the verge of saying something, he simply needed to wait. Taking a sip of tea, he sat in silence. When Ginny began to fidget, he exchanged a glance with her. She did not speak, but silently acknowledged the fact that she knew he was waiting for Petunia to fill the silence by stroking the knuckle of his middle finger. Finally, Petunia spoke.

'Dudley will be twenty-one this year,' she said.

Harry nodded. 'Me too,' he replied.

Petunia dismissed this unimportant information with a wave of her hand.

'We want to organise a party for him,' she continued.

Vernon nodded in agreement. Harry watched in fascination. His uncle's chins continued to quiver long after his head had stopped moving.

'Dudley wanted us to invite you,' Petunia announced. 'He seems to think that we treated you badly when you were little.'

Harry's forehead wrinkled in surprise.

'Nonsense, of course,' Vernon explained dismissively. 'It's that university. He's been listening to those hippy types.'

'You wouldn't want to come, would you?' Petunia asked hopefully. 'If we told him you'd visited, that we'd asked and you didn't want to come; then that would be all right and we could organise his party.'

'I'm always up for a party,' said Ginny. 'I'll take any opportunity to drag Harry onto a dance floor.' She ruffled his hair affectionately. Petunia went pale.

'I _would_ like to see Dudley,' Harry said.

'At least,' he added honestly. 'Ginny would like to meet him. Do you have his address, or a phone number? I could visit, or telephone him.'

Petunia looked uncertain.

'I could try and persuade him to let you organise a party for him,' Harry offered. Petunia's expression changed to one of hope.

'I doubt that we'd be able to go. It will depend on my work, and Ginny's fixture list, she's made the England squad,' he told them proudly. His aunt and uncle weren't impressed by Ginny's achievement, but Petunia was partially satisfied by Harry's apparent reluctance to attend. She looked at her husband, who said nothing but nodded grimly.

'All right,' Petunia said.

Vernon stared at Harry, his face contorted into an expression of thoughtful cunning. Harry watched in fascination as his uncle schemed. Finally, a triumphant leer lit up Vernon's face.

'You can speak to him now,' Vernon announced, 'I'll dial the number for you.' He stood hurriedly and marched out into the hall.

Harry immediately realised what was happening. His uncle's plan was simple. Vernon would dial, and if Dudley was out, Harry would hear no more about the offer. If he was at home, then Vernon and Petunia would be able to hear the conversation. Ginny realised too; she stood quickly, took Harry's cup and watched her boyfriend follow Vernon into the hall.

'Hullo,' Harry heard Vernon say. 'Who's that?'

Vernon harrumphed disapprovingly.

'Is Dudley there? It's his father.'

There was silence for a minute.

'Hello son, it's about your birthday,' there was a long silence. Harry could not hear what Dudley was saying.

'He's here.

'Yes, here! Standing next to me, called in to see us, unannounced, on a ruddy great motorbike. No thought for what the neighbours might think.

'IT'S NOT FUNNY!

'Why? He can't go, we've asked him.

'You don't need to. I've just told you what he said.

'There's no need to be like that, Dudley.

'No, I am NOT lying.'

Vernon sighed and glared at his nephew. His expression was familiar to Harry, although he hadn't seen it for years. Hatred and contempt were contorting Vernon's face, making him look even more porcine than usual. He reluctantly handed Harry the telephone.

'Here,' Harry's uncle grumbled. 'Be quick.'

Harry gingerly took the phone.

'Dudley?' he asked.

'Harry?' the voice at the other end said. 'Is it really you?'

'Yes me, Harry Potter, your cousin,' Harry babbled. He'd never had a telephone conversation with Dudley, he realised. He didn't know what to say.

'Why didn't you get back in touch with us, after we got home?' Dudley asked.

'When you all left, I got the impression that I wouldn't be welcomed back.'

There was a short sarcastic laugh. 'You're probably right,' Dudley said. 'How are you?'

'Very well, thanks, you?'

'Good. You'll have to come and visit me some time. You can tell me why you can't make my twenty-first party.'

'Yes, that's right, I'll be very busy.'

'Dad's listening isn't he?'

'Certainly.'

'You should've come and seen me instead.'

'I didn't know that you weren't here. Ginny wanted to meet my family, so I brought her over.'

'Ginny?' Dudley asked.

'My girlfriend,' Harry replied. He had an idea. 'How far is it to Newcastle from here?'

'From Mum and Dad's to here? Dudley asked. 'About five hours by train, six if the connections are bad.'

'How far is it in miles, in a straight line?' Harry asked.

'Dunno. Around three hundred, I think,' Dudley replied.

'Give me your address. I'll be there in less than three hours.' Harry glanced at Ginny, who smiled and nodded. Uncle Vernon scowled.

'Great, you can meet my girlfriend and housemates. It's 298 Tosson Hill Terrace, Newcastle.' Dudley said. He gave Harry his phone number.

Harry repeated the address and phone number, which Ginny quickly wrote down.

'Dad will try to persuade you not to come, and he'll want to ask me why I invited you.' Dudley said, 'You'd better give him the phone. See you later, Harry.'

'I'll put your Dad back on then,' Harry said, checking his watch. 'See you at about four o'clock, Dudley, 'bye.'

He handed the phone back to Vernon Dursley.

'Why?' Uncle Vernon began. But it seemed that Dudley had shut him up. Vernon listened in silence for a few minutes.

'Well, if that's what you want,' Vernon said in a defeated voice.

'Dudley says that he'll be expecting you.' Uncle Vernon said as he hung up the receiver. 'He says he's going to try to persuade you to come to his party.'

Vernon glared at Harry, his moustache quivering, 'But you're not going to go, are you? I don't want _you_ there, spoiling my son's twenty first.'

Harry didn't reply. He wasn't going to give a definite answer until after he'd met Dudley. There was a small pad and a pen next to the telephone, Harry picked up the pen and quickly wrote on the pad. He tore off the top sheet, pushed past Vernon, walked back into the living room and handed his aunt the note.

'Aunt Petunia, I'll leave you an address and phone number to contact me. Letters to this address, twelve Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, will reach me. If you ever decided to visit,'—Petunia looked horrified at the thought—'let me know in advance. If you don't, you won't be able to find the house. You can leave a message on this telephone number, too. But don't expect to be able to talk to me.'

'Why would we want to?' grumbled Vernon. Harry ignored him and spoke to Ginny.

'I'm going to Newcastle to visit Dudley. It should take about two-and-a-half hours to get there, if my estimate of the bikes top speed is right. Are you coming?'

'I wanted to meet your family.' Ginny nodded, smiling. 'Two down, one to go.'

'Two-and-a-half hours!' Vernon spat, his face reddening. 'Ridiculous. It will take six or seven, at least.'

Harry stared coolly into his uncle's face.

'Remember the flying motorbike I once told you I'd dreamt about, Uncle Vernon?' he asked. 'It's parked outside.'

With that announcement, Uncle Vernon looked as though he was about to explode. Harry decided that it was time to leave. 'Do you mind if we go now?' he asked politely. 'We wouldn't want to outstay our welcome.'

'WELCOME!' Vernon shouted, pulling violently at his moustache. Ginny was having difficulty preventing herself from laughing.

'I'll get our jackets,' she said, while Harry quickly drank the last of his tea and put the cup back on the tray.

Ginny stepped between Harry's aunt and uncle, the bike jackets in her arms. She handed Harry his jacket and began to put on her own. Vernon and Petunia watched in silence.

'Thank you for your hospitality,' Ginny said politely. 'I do hope that we can meet again.'

Vernon and Petunia stood silently in the hallway. Vernon was seething and confused. Harry recognised the problem; his uncle was in a quandary. He desperately wanted Harry gone, but he didn't want him to visit Dudley.

Harry opened the front door and allowed Ginny to leave first. He stepped outside before turning to his Aunt and Uncle.

'Bye, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon,' he said. 'See you again soon I expect.'

'Bye Mr and Mrs…' Ginny stopped in mid-sentence. Vernon had slammed the front door in Harry's face.

'Well …' Ginny began.

'That went better than I expected.' Harry interrupted her. Ginny snorted with laughter, then stopped and looked at him carefully.

'You mean that, don't you?' she asked.

Harry nodded. 'I did try to warn you, Ginny,' he said. 'They'd have been happier if they'd never seen me again.'

'Ron and George told me that, too, but I didn't believe them, either. What's Dudley going to be like?' she asked.

Harry shrugged; 'I've no idea, he was becoming a bit more human the last time I saw him. He even made me a cup of tea once, and he wished me luck when they left. He seemed quite pleased to hear from me when I spoke to him, too. Who knows?'

'Your uncle's neighbours are watching us,' Ginny observed.

Vernon's noisy slamming of the door had obviously attracted their attention. Harry looked around and waved at the staring faces, and the neighbours looked away in embarrassment.

'Let's go.' Harry said, leading Ginny past Vernon's car. When they reached the bike Harry unlocked the seat and handed Ginny her helmet.

'They're really unhappy, aren't they?' observed Ginny, looking back at the house. 'Have they ever done anything spontaneous, enjoyed themselves?'

Harry shook his head.

'Not that I can remember.'

'How sad,' Ginny observed. 'They aren't happy, so they don't see why anyone else should be, either.'

'I'd never thought of it that way,' Harry admitted. 'But, you may be right. There's nothing I can do for them. I'm happy to leave them to enjoy their misery.'

'That almost made sense,' Ginny laughed, she put her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoe and kissed him slowly and passionately. Harry slid his arms down her back and cupped her muscular backside in his hands; she twitched her gluteus maximi under his hands, and he squeezed. When they broke apart Harry glimpsed a purple faced Uncle Vernon glaring at them from the living room window. He pretended not to notice, pulled on his helmet, fastened it, and helped Ginny to fasten hers.

After pushing the bike off the centre stand, he kicked the side stand down and flicked out the kick starter. He jumped up, kicked down hard, and the bike roared into life. Reaching down, he pulled out Ginny's footpeg, kicked up the sidestand, and nodded to her. As he held the bike steady she stepped onto a peg, swung her leg over the bike and sat behind him.

'Ready?' he asked.

Ginny slid her hands around his waist, under his jacket and onto his chest. She slid as far forwards as she could, Harry felt her chest pressed against his back, her inner thighs gripping tightly against his buttocks. There certainly were advantages to riding the bike, he thought.

'Let's go.' She was forced to shout over the noise of the engine, and Harry wondered how easy it would be to put a communication charm on the helmets.

Pulling in the clutch, Harry kicked the bike into first gear, gave a cheery wave to Uncle Vernon, and roared off down the road. As soon as the road was clear, he turned on the invisibility booster, pulled the bike into the air, and reduced the engine noise to a magical ticking. As they soared above the streets of Little Whinging Harry looked down in delight, the bike was working perfectly. He checked the compass and began heading due north.


	3. To the North

**To the North**

After more than two hours of flying, Harry was cold and uncomfortable. Behind him, Ginny had been fidgeting for some time. Ignoring the buffeting wind he stood up on the foot pegs and stretched his stiff legs. When he sat back down, Ginny slid her arms back around his chest and hugged him tightly.

They had travelled due north from Little Whinging, not reaching the east coast until they had crossed most of the random patchwork of greens and browns which made up the North York Moors. Harry was now following the coast and the moors had given way to the industrial smog of Teeside. He found himself flying over oil refineries and chemical plants, a sudden change from the wild and bleak moorland they'd been above only minutes earlier. He knew that if he followed the coast north he'd reach the River Tyne in less than quarter of an hour. Keeping his right hand on the throttle, he took his left off the handlebars and squeezed Ginny's knee.

'Not long now,' he called back over his shoulder. Ginny hugged him again. She didn't speak, but simply squeezed his thighs between her knees in reply.

Several minutes later, Harry arrived at the river and turned west. The wide river mouth was flanked by yellow sandy beaches and a ruined priory stood, black and jagged, on its north bank. He began his descent. He'd pinpointed Dudley's street easily on his map, it was next to a large area of railway sidings. He moved north of the river, found the railway line and began to follow it.

'I hope he's got the kettle on,' Ginny shouted, 'I'm starting to get cold.'

Harry patted her thigh in reply and pointed down.

'We're here, I think,' he called over his shoulder.

The street next to Dudley's was quiet. Harry slowed the bike to about thirty miles an hour and dropped it onto the ground. While turning the corner into Dudley's street he simultaneously removed the invisibility booster and switched on the engine noise.

Although the street sign said Tosson Hill Terrace, there were no houses, terraced or otherwise, to be seen. Harry rode down the quiet tree lined road. The trees, and thick bushes screened the railway sidings on the left. There were a few small industrial buildings ahead and on the right several rows of terraced houses stretched off at right angles. Harry slowed and looked for more street signs.

After about a quarter of a mile the main street curved to the right and another road continued straight ahead. Sitting on the wall of a semi-detached house on the corner was Dudley Dursley. There were three other people with him; all four were drinking beer from bottles.

One side of Tosson Hill Terrace was an imposing line of what appeared to be Victorian terraced houses, most in very good repair. On the other side, side where Dudley sat, the properties were newer, and semi-detached. They were probably no more than seventy years old. The street continued off into the distance.

Harry pulled the bike to a halt directly in front of Dudley and his friends. Dudley stood, but did not approach; he was obviously uncertain, which was also how Harry felt. Dudley's three companions remained seated on the wall, staring curiously at the motorcyclist and his pillion. They all looked to be about Harry's age. There was a very tall young man with wild, light brown hair and a tangled beard; a tall and skinny girl with short, spiky blonde hair and a long, straight nose; and a thin-faced curly haired young man who was only a couple of inches taller than Ginny.

Dudley watched worriedly. Harry wondered why, then realised that his cousin could not be certain who was under the helmets. Ginny kicked up the foot peg and slid from the bike. Harry hastily lowered the bike onto the side stand and dismounted. They removed their helmets together.

'Harry,' Dudley finally smiled in recognition and held out his hand.

'Hello, Dudley,' Harry replied shaking his cousin's hand. In the years since Harry had last seen him, Dudley had changed, he was still a big man, but burly rather than overweight. It looked like his nose had been broken. His blond hair was longer, and he was unshaven. He wore a black rugby-shirt with the word Falcons on the front.

'Do you play rugby these days, or are you simply a fan?' Harry asked.

'I play for the university,' Dudley said proudly.

'Ginny,' Harry said, 'this is my cousin, Dudley Dursley. Dudley this is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley.'

They shook hands.

Dudley was staring at Ginny's hair.

'Are you related to…' Dudley began.

'Harry's friend, Ron, is one of my many brothers,' Ginny interrupted, 'I think I've seen you before, at King's Cross with your Mum and Dad when they were collecting Harry. If I have, you've changed.'

Dudley chortled. Harry was disturbed to discover that Dudley's laugh was disconcertingly like Vernon's. Behind him the girl noisily cleared her throat.

'Oh, sorry,' said Dudley. He introduced Harry and Ginny to his friends. The beard belonged to John Pickles; the thin-faced young man was Jamie Garrick, and the blonde girl was Dudley's girlfriend, Daisy Milburn. After the introductions were made there was an uneasy silence.

'Do you want a beer?' Dudley asked, lifting his bottle hopefully.

'We've just spent hours on the bike,' Harry replied, remembering Ginny's words as they'd flown above the Tyne, 'I'd rather have tea, if that's okay. I need to warm up.'

'Tea for me, too, please,' Ginny said.

Dudley looked hopefully at Daisy, but she simply folded her arms and returned his gaze. Dudley gave in.

'I'll go and make you some tea then,' Dudley said. 'Why don't you take Harry and Ginny into the garden, Daze. It's a nice day.'

Daisy nodded.

'Folla me,' she said.

She led Ginny and Harry around into a triangular garden at the side of the house. It was unkempt and overgrown. Only a small area of rough grass was in the spring sunshine, the rest, shaded by trees and by the house, was noticeably cooler. There were three old, sun-faded plastic chairs in the garden, Daisy sat on the grass, John and Jamie who had followed, took chairs. Harry and Ginny stood.

'Si' doon,' suggested Daisy, indicating the remaining chair.

'We've been on the bike for hours. Right now, standing is good,' Harry replied. 'Have you known Dudley long?'

'No' as lang as this twa,' Daisy spoke rapidly, and nodded at John and Jamie. 'They've been sharing the hoose wi' Dud since second term o' uni. Me'n Dud've been gannin oot fer aboot six months, we me' a' a bonfire par'y las' year. Wha' aboot ye twa?'

'Pardon?' Harry said, rather taken aback by the speed of her speech and the impenetrability of her accent.

'Ah've been with Dud for six months,' Daisy tried again, this time talking more slowly and moderating her thick accent. 'We met at a bonfire party, what about you two?'

'We've been together for four years,' Ginny said smiling. 'I was fifteen; we met at school.'

'Actually,' said Harry, grinning at Ginny, 'we first met at Kings Cross Station when you were ten.'

'And he remembers,' Ginny laughed.

'Dudley never talks about 'is family,' Daisy said. 'He's met me Mam 'n Da', but ah've never met his. And he's never mentioned any other family.'

'I'm it, so far as I know,' Harry said. 'Apart from Dudley's Aunt Marjorie.'

'Marge?' Dudley said, as he arrived with two mugs of tea. 'Please, let's not talk about Aunt Marge. She's good for a few quid, but not much else.'

'This is the only tea we have,' Dudley said apologetically, 'Earl Grey, Daisy drinks it. She takes it black but I'll bring milk and sugar if you want. Except—I think the milk's off.'

'Local lad,' Daisy said.

Harry looked puzzled.

'Earl Grey! There's a monument to him in the Toon,' she explained.

'Town,' Dudley translated.

Harry and Ginny sipped the hot, perfumed black tea, glanced at each other, and decided that neither milk nor sugar were required.

They spent a pleasant hour in the garden, making small talk. During a rambling conversation Harry and Ginny discovered a lot about Dudley, his house mates and girlfriend.

Jamie was on the same course (Mechanical Engineering) as Dudley and, like Harry's cousin, he was a southerner, a Londoner. Jamie said very little and spent most of his time gazing at Ginny's chest. As a consequence, Harry decided that he didn't like him much.

John was a Computer Science student. Ginny nodded wisely at this, but Harry realised that he'd be doing a lot of explaining later, not that he knew much about the topic himself. Dudley called John "the mad Yorkshireman" and John did his best to live up to this description, rattling off a series of bad jokes and terrible puns. He soon discovered that he'd met his match in Ginny, whose dry wit had them all laughing.

Daisy was, as she put it, a local lass. She wasn't a student, but worked "just up the road at the Ministry" as a clerk. She shared a flat with another girl a few miles away. Both Harry and Ginny had a lot of problems with her accent, she seemed to have an aversion to the letter 't', which she dropped at every opportunity. Dudley would teasingly provide translations for the newcomers. Daisy accepted Dudley's translations with a good natured smile.

When the conversation turned to Harry, he used his usual cover story. He told them that he worked for the Home Office in the Auror Office, an office, he explained, which monitored police statistics nationally. It was close enough to the truth, and boring enough that no one asked him any questions. Ginny claimed to be a shop assistant, simple and easy.

When they'd first started frequenting Muggle London together Harry had suggested that she claim to be a professional footballer. That idea had gone disastrously wrong the only time they'd tried it. It took them only seconds to realise that neither of them knew anything about football. When asked, both had showed complete ignorance of the offside rule, and neither was able to make any sensible comments about whether the golden goal was a good idea. At a DA reunion, months later, they'd discussed the incident. Dean Thomas had enthusiastically attempted to explain the finer points of the game. He'd given up only when Ginny had looked him straight in the eyes and thanked him for reminding her how boring his football conversations had always been.

As the conversation continued, Harry was surprised to discover how ordinary Dudley was. He was far from the arrogant, selfish bully Harry had grown up with. It was even possible to hold a relatively normal conversation with him. Dudley and Harry's relationship as children was much discussed by both Daisy and Ginny. Both Harry and his cousin were circumspect, but there was no doubt that Dudley, unlike his father, had changed.

When the sun dropped behind the houses the temperature in the garden dropped quickly. As it got colder they went indoors, and Harry got his first look at Dudley's house. The living room was extremely untidy, with clothes, textbooks, dirty cups and plates scattered about the room. Harry looked around in astonishment.

'Your mum wouldn't like this mess,' he observed.

'She came up at Christmas, and went absolutely crazy! She spent three days tidying up.' Dudley grinned. He cleared the sofa by simply picking up the clothes scattered across it and throwing them into the corner of the room.

Once they sat, the conversation finally turned to Dudley's twenty-first birthday party.

'It's two months away, on a Saturday,' said Dudley. 'Mum and Dad are desperate to organise something for me.'

'You should hev a ceilidh,' Daisy announced, 'Ah like ceilidh's.'

'They're a bit owd fashioned,' John announced.

'But they ge' folk dancin', John,' argued Daisy. She turned to Dudley. 'If yer mam 'n' da'r gannin, Dud, they're bound te wanna dance an' aal.'

'Mum and Dad are going, but I'd be amazed if they'll want to dance,' said Dudley, both replying to, and translating the end of Daisy's sentence. 'Can you imagine Mum and Dad dancing, Harry?' He chuckled, and Harry joined in the laughter.

'Aye, well, they might surprise you,' said Daisy cheerfully.

Harry watched the skinny blonde girl carefully. She was sitting on the arm of a chair, grinning down at Dudley, and poking him. Petunia and Vernon would hate Daisy, he realised; she was a friendly chatterbox with an almost impenetrable accent.

'Why can't you come?' Dudley asked Harry.

'Because your mum and dad don't want us,' Ginny replied. 'Your dad made that very clear.'

Dudley shrugged. 'They don't want this lot to go, either,' he nodded at his flatmates. 'I've no idea who _they_ will want to invite. Marge, of course, and Piers and his parents, I expect. But I haven't spoken to Piers in more than three years. I don't see why they should decide who goes. Although it would be nice if Dad would cough up the cash for a proper party.'

'Just tell 'em, Dud,' advised Daisy. 'After all, you told your Dad that you wanted to see Harry, and he should stop rabbiting on about him.'

'Sod it, I will,' said Dudley. 'If Mum and Dad are going to decide who to invite it won't be _my_ party, will it? I'm going to invite the people I want. Give me your address, Harry, and I'll send you an invitation. My birthday is on a Saturday, so that's when it should be.'

'Which Saturday, when?' Ginny asked.

'Twenty-third of June,' said Harry and Dudley simultaneously.

'I'm surprised you remember,' said Dudley.

'I could hardly forget. That was the day I got your hand-me-downs, remember?' said Harry with a little more sarcasm than he'd intended.

'Oh, yeah,' said Dudley, looking rather embarrassed. 'Will you come, anyway?'

'I'd be annoying your Mum and Dad, and apart from you lot, I wouldn't know anyone,' Harry mumbled, but despite his concerns, he gave Dudley the address and phone number he'd given to Aunt Petunia.

'Oh, come on, Harry,' Ginny cajoled him. 'Twenty-one, you can make an exception for a twenty-first birthday. I'll be able to go, there's no matches scheduled for that day, and there won't be, because I'm playing on Sunday the twenty-fourth. I'm sure that you can switch shifts, even if you're supposed to be at work.'

'Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia will go mad,' Harry announced, still unsure.

'Bring that friend of yours, too, Ginny's brother,' Dudley suggested.

'Thanks, Dudley,' smiled Ginny gratefully. 'That's one more reason for us to come. I'll tell Ron; he's got to go. Between us we can persuade Harry to come. But Ron won't come without Hermione.'

'That will be another job, persuading Hermione to come. She'll have important reports to write,' observed Harry wryly.

'It's my job to persuade you to have some fun occasionally, Potter,' Ginny told him. 'And it's Ron's to persuade Hermione. He can do it, you know he can.'

'So, you'll come?' Dudley asked.

'Definitely,' Ginny said, as Harry gave a non-committal grunt.

'I'll get him there, don't worry,' Ginny grinned as Dudley looked uncertainly between them.

'Right, good,' Dudley said. 'Er, do you want to stay for dinner? I don't think that we've got much in, but we could get a take-away. You could even, er, stay overnight and go back tomorrow. It'd be sleeping bags on the floor in here I'm afraid.'

Harry looked at Ginny. 'What do you want to do?' he asked.

'We can't really stay over,' said Ginny apologetically. 'We need to be at Mum and Dad's tomorrow. It's Easter Sunday and we're having a big family reunion. My brother Charlie is over from Romania, and he's only here for a few days. And one of my other brothers, Percy, is bringing his fiancée to meet Charlie. He's the only one of us Audrey hasn't met. We would be in real trouble if we weren't there. We should get back to Harry's tonight, but we don't need to leave until later.'

Ginny turned to Harry. She opened her eyes wide, wrinkled her nose, and pouted. 'I don't know about you, Harry, but I am getting hungry.' She leaned in close, teasing him. 'If you love me, you will wine and dine me.'

'How can I resist?' asked Harry.

Ginny kissed him triumphantly. 'You can't. I promised you that today would work out okay. I was right, wasn't I?'

'Yes,' Harry admitted grudgingly.

'We'll take you out to for a meal, Dudley, our treat,' said Ginny.

'She means my treat,' Harry explained, 'Ginny never has any Mug—ney.'

Harry turned to Dudley's flatmates.

'I haven't seen Dud for a few years, do you mind if Ginny and I take him out for a meal?'

'And Daisy,' said Dudley in response to a firm poke from the blonde girl.

'Of course,' said Ginny. 'If you two are going to talk about old times, I demand a girl friend.'

'Great,' Daisy said. 'What d'yer fancy? Chinese? Indian? Italian? Or maybe something a bit different?'

'You're the local, you decide, Daisy,' suggested Harry.

'Stowell Street,' Daisy said.

Harry looked at Dudley, puzzled.

'It's full of Chinese restaurants,' Dudley explained, 'I'll just get my jacket, it's a ten minute walk up to Chilli' Road Metro.'

The Metro, Harry and Ginny discovered when they arrived there a quarter of an hour later, was Newcastle's rapid transit system. They bought tickets and caught the next train into the city centre. Dudley and Daisy argued about the best place to get off. Dudley suggested St. James', as it was the closest stop to Stowell Street, Daisy suggested the stop before, because she wanted Harry and Ginny could see "the monument" and walk past "the square". When Ginny agreed with Daisy, Dudley immediately capitulated.

Daisy was an enthusiastic advocate for her home (she said "hyem") city and on the short walk from the Metro station she showed them Earl Grey's monument and pointed out the magnificent buildings of Grainger town. The city's stunning Georgian architecture was named for its designer, but the name brought peals of laughter from Ginny and a confused look from Daisy and Dudley. Daisy bemoaned the 1960's shopping centre which had been dumped in its centre and insisted that they walk the length of Stowell Street to see the city walls. When they reached the walls she tried to persuade them to double back to visit the site of the castle which had given the city it's name more than nine hundred years earlier. But by then everyone else was hungry, so instead of a trip to the keep they returned to a fine, and expensive, Chinese restaurant.

Harry was glad of Daisy's company over the meal, as he discovered that he and Dudley had little in common. They very rapidly ran out of things to talk about. Dudley was happy to criticise his parents. But Harry, although he agreed with most of Dudley's comments, was uncomfortable to discover that this was the easiest topic of conversation for them. As the conversation began to peter out, Daisy provided a distraction.

'Dudley already knows,' she said confidentially, leaning over the table to tell them. 'I'm a witch.'

Dudley caught Harry's eyes and shook his head frantically when she made the announcement.

'Really?' Ginny asked, 'where…'

'What sort of witch?' Harry hastily interrupted his girlfriend. 'The kind that sticks pins in effigies or the kind that dances naked under the light of the full moon?'

Daisy looked affronted. Ginny looked puzzled and seemed about to ask for an explanation. Harry quietened her with a glance.

'Neither,' said Daisy, huffily, 'I'm surprised at you Harry, bigoted stereotypes, that's all _they_ are.'

'It would be silly to dance naked under a full moon,' Ginny observed as she realised what was going on. 'After all, there could be werewolves about.'

'Just because I believe in magic,' Daisy rounded on Ginny angrily. 'It doesn't mean I believe in werewolves, or vampires, or…'

'Trolls?' Harry asked, 'Sorry, Daisy, I didn't mean to offend you. I've done some research on witchcraft for my job. A lot of this stuff is just fakery, designed to part people from their money.'

Harry glanced at Dudley, who was looking very uncomfortable.

'Dudley's Mum and Dad hate all this magic stuff, you know,' he continued confidentially. 'If you ever meet his parents, don't say anything to them. They'll go mad, won't they, Dud?' Dudley nodded gratefully.

'They hate anything out of the ordinary, or different,' Dudley told her, while spooning shredded chilli beef into his rice bowl. Daisy waved her chopsticks angrily.

'Why?' she asked.

Dudley looked at Harry in horror.

'It's a long story,' Harry said. 'But basically my Mum, Dud's mum's sister, was a witch and she and Aunt Petunia fell out over it. It was a family quarrel that happened before Dud and I were born.'

'Yeah, that's about it,' Dudley confirmed.

'Had Mum not died, she might have made up with Petunia, but it's still a sore topic for the Dursleys,' explained Harry. Dudley nodded gratefully to Harry, finished a third beer and ordered a fourth.

'I don't have any problems, but the Dursleys will; just remember that,' Harry told Daisy, helping himself to some sweet and sour pork.

'Can I ask a question?' Ginny looked curiously at Daisy. 'How do you learn to be a witch?'

'There's a shop in town,' Daisy explained. 'They sell all sorts of magic stuff. Books, scented candles, lotions, potions, crystal balls, tea leaf reading kits, tarot cards.'

'Divination!' Ginny gave a dismissive snort as she reached for the plate of chilli beef and spooned some into her rice bowl.

'Ginny doesn't think much of the subtle art of divination,' Harry interrupted, smiling. 'So, what's this shop called?'

'Witchcraft,' Daisy said.

'Spelt W-Y-T-C-H-C-R-A-E-F-T,' Dudley added, rolling his eyes, 'Daisy left a brochure in my bedroom last weekend.'

Ginny smiled and lifted a mouthful of chilli beef and rice with her chopsticks.

'The shop's run by a lass called Millie Flynn. She owns the place with her husband. You should take a look…' Daisy was interrupted by a gasp from Ginny, who had tears rolling down her cheeks. She grabbed her beer and downed the glass in one.

'Sorry,' she gasped as everyone stared at her. 'That chilli beef is all chilli.'

Dudley laughed. 'That's why I like this place. You'd best watch out, it's a "bum-burner" that one, it's just as hot when it comes out the other end.'

Ginny grimaced in distaste.

'This is where the rugby team come after a match,' Daisy explained to Ginny rolling her eyes, 'I've only been a couple of times. They get very drunk and make a lot of fart jokes. Boys!'

'Girls who play sport aren't much better, in my experience,' Harry replied, making Ginny blush.

'Yeah,' Daisy said. 'What's with the weird England shirt, anyway Harry? And why "Weasley Chaser"? Didn't you say you had a match the day after Dud's birthday, Ginny? D'you play footie?'

The shirt, Harry realised suddenly, had been a bad idea.

'Ginny got selected to play for England …' Harry began. He stopped, wondering what to say next. A half remembered conversation with an American wizard sprang to mind.

'Do you know anything about baseball?' he asked Daisy and Dudley. Daisy shook her head.

'Rounders,' Dudley exclaimed, loudly and knowledgably showing his prejudice. 'It's a girls' game, renamed by the Yanks and played by blokes.'

Satisfied that he was on safe ground Harry continued.

'There is an England ladies baseball team, and Ginny made the squad. Her brother George got the shirt for me, but he had the word chaser added under Ginny's name. He's been calling me "the weedy kid who chases Ginny'" for years. He thought writing Weasley Chaser on the back was a good joke.'

Ginny raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Harry agreed with her assessment, as excuses went, it was rubbish. However, to their surprise, it worked. Dudley changed the subject to rugby and then complained about how American Football, was a ridiculous game and that rugby was much more interesting, entertaining, and physically demanding.

Grateful for the change of subject Harry simply allowed Dudley to vociferously express his biases. He soon realised that Dudley still shared some traits with his father. In fact, Dudley complained for so long that an extremely bored Daisy called a halt.

'Shut up, Dud, you're being a prat,' she told him.

'Okay, sorry,' he said.

By then, the meal was over. Harry, Ginny and Daisy were enjoying a drink of jasmine tea while Dudley drank another beer. Harry pulled his pocket watch from his jacket pocket, it was almost ten o'clock.

'It's going to be really late when we get home,' Harry said to Ginny, 'even if we set off now.'

He caught the waitress's eye and asked for the bill. Dudley and Daisy reached for cash, but Harry protested, and waved their money away.

'I said this was my treat,' he reminded them as he peeled several twenty pound notes from his wallet.

'Can you afford …' Dudley began, hesitantly. It was obvious to Harry that the meal would be a huge expense for Dudley, and probably Daisy, but that they felt it only polite to offer to pay.

'My Mum and Dad left me a lot of money, so did my godfather …' he began.

'Harry has lots of money, and he never spends it,' Ginny interrupted. 'Just let him pay, I'm going to!'

Harry looked at the bill.

'No problem,' he said as they stood and prepared to leave, 'I'll take care of it.'

'Thanks Harry,' Daisy said.

'Yeah, thanks, Harry,' Dudley said shyly to his cousin as he took Daisy's hand and led her from the restaurant.

Ginny linked her arm through Harry's and leaned in towards him.

'You got a "thanks",' she pointed out in a whisper. 'That's better than his Dad. He's a bit boring, your cousin, but no worse than some of mine.'

'Which of your cousins are boring?' Harry smiled as he asked her the question. He knew what her answer would be, as he was feeding her the straight line for an old private joke.

'Barney, he's a real stick in the mud,' smiled Ginny. 'He didn't dance with me at Bill's wedding, I hoped he would.'

'I told you, he was scared about what Ron might say,' Harry gave his standard reply almost by rote as he slid his arm around Ginny's waist and kissed her.

'Thanks for today, Harry,' said Ginny. 'I know you didn't want to do this, but we've tested the bike, and I've met your family. It hasn't been too bad, had it?'

'No,' Harry admitted. 'It hasn't.'

Arms around each other, they followed Dudley and Daisy past a noisy and busy pub and up towards the nearest Metro station, behind which stood the large glass and steel bulk of St James' Park football ground. They walked down the steps to the underground Metro station. It was almost deserted.

'Much too early for folk t' be gannin hyem,' Daisy said. 'The Toon'll be busy 'til the small hours, especially aroond the Bigg Market and the Quayside.'

'Night clubs,' Dudley explained. 'Lot's of people wearing not many clothes and getting very drunk.'

'Did that last year, but I didn't like it,' said Ginny. 'Neither did Harry.'

When the tram arrived Ginny sat on Harry's knee, despite the fact that there were plenty of seats. Possibly because of this Daisy did the same with Dudley. The journey back was quiet. Daisy and Dudley sat opposite Harry and Ginny, but they were too busy snogging to talk. Harry watched them for a few seconds before looking out of the window. There was nothing to see except the walls of the tunnels until they reached the second station, where the tram moved above ground.

As they rattled along Harry and Ginny watched the lights of another Muggle city rushing past. It wasn't as busy and bustling as London, but there was a definite vibrancy about the place. As he watched the streets, Harry thought that he could understand why Dudley had stayed. He also knew why Vernon and Petunia had hated the place. The accents were impenetrable and, worse, everyone said hello. The people were much too friendly for the Dursleys.

When they reached their destination Dudley and Daisy led them up from the station and past another busy pub.

'That's our local,' Dudley said, 'I don't suppose you want a pint before you go. John 'n Jamie will be there.'

'I'm driving,' Harry replied.

Dudley looked disappointed. 'Oh well, maybe next time,' he said.

The four slowly walked the length of Tosson Hill Terrace. When they reached Dudley's house Daisy invited them in for coffee. Harry looked at Ginny for guidance.

'Thanks, Daisy,' Ginny said. 'But no thanks. I think we'd better be going. We've a long way to go.'

As they stood outside, next to the bike, Harry found it difficult to know exactly what to say to his cousin. Dudley hadn't been unpleasant, but they seemed to have exhausted all topics of conversation. He wondered what they could talk about if they met again.

'We should try to keep in touch,' Dudley said.

'Yes,' Ginny agreed.

'You've got my address,' Harry told Dudley. 'And you've got phone numbers too.'

''We'll see you at your birthday party, if not before,' Ginny told Dudley. 'Bye, Dudley; bye, Daisy.'

They put on their helmets. Harry started the bike, and with a wave they roared off into the night as Dudley and his girlfriend waved goodbye.


	4. The Burrow (Mostly)

**4. The Burrow (Mostly)**

It was well after midnight when Harry and Ginny finally returned to number twelve Grimmauld Place. Exhausted and rather saddle-sore from the long journey to Newcastle and back, they gratefully accepted the cups of hot chocolate Kreacher had waiting for them. As they sat side by side on the sofa in his sitting room Harry slipped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder and gave her a hug.

'You were right, Ginny,' he said as she leant into him and rested her head on his shoulder. 'I didn't want to go. But I'm glad that I did, and I'm really glad that you were there with me. Thank you.'

'I'm glad I was there, too,' Ginny told him. 'It was ... interesting. Your relatives are...' She hesitated; she was lost for words, something which rarely happened.

'Horrible?' Harry asked.

Ginny stifled a laugh, and snuggled in closer. 'It's obvious that Vernon is never going to like you,' she said quietly and candidly. 'I'm not sure about Petunia, but Dudley really does want to keep in touch with you. He's okay, you know. He's certainly no worse than some of my cousins.' She yawned. 'It's been a long day, much longer than I expected. Let's go to bed.'

'Good idea,' Harry said as he too yawned. He removed his arm from her shoulder, and she stood and stretched.

'It's going to be a busy day tomorrow, too,' she said.

'And Monday, too,' he reminded her.

* * *

To Harry, it seemed as though it was only moments later when he was woken by someone knocking on his bedroom door.

'What?' he grumbled.

'Harry,' Hermione shouted, 'it's half past nine, we need to be setting off for The Burrow soon. Is Ginny in Beaumaris, or is she with you?'

'Go away, Hermione!' Ginny replied.

'It's half past nine,' Hermione repeated.

'We'll be down in a few minutes,' Harry called, yawning. 'Put the kettle on, please.'

'I suppose we should be grateful that she's stopped bursting into your room,' Ginny murmured.

'After the last time, I don't suppose she'll ever do _that_ again,' said Harry.

'I hope not,' said Ginny, smirking.

Stretching like a cat, Ginny slid out of his bed. She continued to stretch as she walked over to the door. Harry watched his girlfriend as she strolled across to the door with libidinousness inducing languor. He somehow overcame the urge to drag her back into bed and simply watched her backside vanish from view as she pulled on her dressing gown.

A few minutes later, Harry stumbled into his kitchen in his dressing gown, he was still unshaven. Ron was sitting at the table, relaxed and drinking tea; Hermione was sitting next to him, and Harry could see that she was beginning to panic.

'We should be going! You know that Molly likes us to be there by one o'clock, and it's a three hour drive,' Hermione reminded Harry.

'Just relax, Hermione. It's Harry, remember? You know that Mum lets _him_ get away with anything.' Ron grinned as he poured a cup of tea for his friend.

'If you're worried about being late, Hermione, just go,' Harry told her. 'Ginny and I can follow you on the bike. It's much faster than your car.' He pulled out a chair and sat, facing his friends across the table. Thanks, Ron,' he added picking up the green mug which Ron had poured for him. 'My favourite mug.'

Ron looked grimly at the mug, which bore the legend: "Harpies: League Champions 1999/2000", and shook his head in annoyance.

'I may have to buy a new one at the end of this season, too,' Harry added. 'League champions two years running. Admittedly the final league game against Tutshill isn't a foregone conclusion, but at least the Harpies are playing at home.'

'There's more to Quidditch than good results,' said Ron unhappily.

Ron's team, Chudley Cannons, were (as usual) simply hoping to avoid finishing last in the league. Harry took pity on him and, after taking a gulp of tea, he changed the subject. Leaning back in his chair he told his friends about the visits he and Ginny had made to the Dursleys. As he spoke, he could see Hermione glancing anxiously at the clock. It was approaching ten when he finished his tale, and his tea.

'I told you to visit them years ago, just after the Battle! That's almost three years ago,' Hermione scolded. 'Honestly, Harry! Why did it take you so long?'

'He wasn't ready, Hermione,' Ginny's said decisively as she scampered down the stairs into the kitchen. 'And having met them, I can understand why. But now we've visited, I'm sure we'll see them again. We can all expect an invitation to Dudley's twenty-first birthday party. And we're all going!'

Harry turned and watched as Ginny breezed into the kitchen. She brought with her the scent of flowers and a bright cheeriness. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and looked clean, fresh, wide awake and beautiful. He smiled contentedly at her.

'You,' Ginny ordered, pointing at him. 'Washed, dressed and shaved, now.' There was a teasing tone in her order, but Harry knew that she was right. They needed to leave soon.

'Yes, boss.' Harry winked at his girlfriend, put his empty mug on the table, and left. He hadn't had any breakfast, but he could afford to miss it. They had eaten late last night; and he knew from years of experience that Molly would start feeding them the second they arrived.

When Harry returned to the kitchen, showered, shaved, and dressed, Ron was the only one there.

'You were bloody ages in that shower. Hermione was desperate to leave, and she was starting to panic, you know what she's like,' Ron said apologetically. 'Because you were taking so long, the girls left twenty minutes ago. Ginny says that I've got to tell you that she's taken your eggs, so don't waste time looking for them. Hermione's got ours, too. I said I'd wait, for you. I mean, we can get to The Burrow in an instant, if we want.'

'Yeah, I was thinking I'd just Apparate over. What's the fuss about the car?' Harry asked.

'I knew you weren't listening properly when she told you on Wednesday night,' said Ron, shaking his head despairingly. 'Hermione's dad's sister and her husband emigrated to Canada years ago. They're over to visit, and they are staying with John and Jean. They arrived yesterday, and they "simply have to meet" Hermione's boyfriend, and the "old school friends" they've heard so much about.'

'I'd remembered about her aunt and uncle's visit,' Harry protested. 'But what's that got to do with… Oh, we won't be able to Apparate to the Grangers, will we?'

'Exactly, magically arriving in the back garden, like we usually do, isn't an option,' Ron reminded his friend. 'They're called Alan and Geraldine Barker, and they're Muggles. They have a son and a daughter, both older than Hermione. The last time I saw the Grangers, Jean told me that they're a really nice couple. But I think she's still rather worried. She wants us to be on our best behaviour.'

'We always are,' said Harry.

'If Jean says they're nice, they probably are,' said Ron. 'But I think Jean really meant, don't make any slip ups. You're lucky that tomorrow is a one-off for you and Ginny. I'll be seeing them loads more times; they're here for a month. Think of all of the opportunities I'll have to do, or say, something stupid.'

'I hope you can cope,' said Harry sympathetically. 'Just be careful, Ron. Hermione won't be happy if she's forced to Obliviate her relatives. I don't think John and Jean will like it, either. But these days you're much better when you're in the Muggle world, mate.' He picked up his dragonskin jacket and pulled it on. 'Are you going to Apparate, use the Floo network, or do you want a lift on the bike?'

'Reckon you can catch them on the bike?' Ron asked.

'Easily,' Harry grinned. 'It can fly, remember?'

'I don't know why Hermione won't let us enchant her car,' said Ron. 'We'd never be late if it could fly and turn invisible.'

'It's her car, and her decision.' Harry reminded his friend. 'Besides, her mobile phone wouldn't work in the car if she did. Remember the last time she brought her phone into this place? She had to buy a new battery.'

'She doesn't actually need that phone, not now that we've figured out how to connect it to the Muggle telephone system,' said Ron.

'It's not a good connection, Ron, and we have to go through an operator in the Ministry, so it isn't secure, either. I hope George will be able to solve the connection problem with the Mark Seven. After all, you're both making a fortune off the things.'

'Yeah, but unless we can sell people an improved version, we'll eventually run out of customers,' said Ron. 'Do you know that in the past six months seventy-five percent of all witches and wizards under the age of twenty-one have bought one. It's incredible how much money we're making.'

'You could quit, you know,' Harry told him. 'We can cope without you.'

'Thanks,' said Ron sarcastically. 'You aren't indispensable, either, you know! But a promise is a promise. I'm staying until we capture Goyle. And, besides, George would be very annoyed if I didn't.'

Harry picked up Ginny's helmet and handed it to Ron. 'We'd better go. You'll probably need to put a stretching spell on this, bighead.'

* * *

They were flying over Ilminster when they spotted Hermione's car in the distance. Harry flew down onto a quiet side road just ahead of the Mini, and turned off the invisibility booster. As they roared up to a junction, Hermione drove past on the main road. Harry pulled out onto the main road and kicked the bike up through the gears, accelerating hard. As he did so, Ron laughed.

'Flying on the bike was great, but this is bloody brilliant,' Ron yelled as the ground flashed past beneath his feet.

They hurtled along the road, ignoring the speed limit, and soon caught up to their girlfriends. Both young men waved as they tore past the Mini and thundered off into the distance.

Ten minutes later, just after Honiton, Harry pulled off the dual carriageway. They followed the narrow country lane which ran parallel to the main road for a few miles before finally turning left and heading to the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. Just before they reached the village itself, Harry turned into the narrow overgrown lane which led to The Burrow.

The lane was little more than two wheel tracks and Harry was forced to slow down. As they approached the gate, he lifted the bike into the air. They cleared the weatherworn wooden gate by a couple of feet, and Harry landed the bike some fifty yards from the gate, on the gravel yard outside The Burrow. Even before he had stopped the bike, the kitchen door opened and Arthur was striding excitedly towards them. Ginny's father was closely followed by Charlie, and Bill.

'Well?' Arthur asked eagerly.

'It's brilliant, Dad,' said Ron.

'It looks and sounds like a motorbike, it flies really well, and the invisibility booster works perfectly,' Harry added. 'Ginny and I took it on a long journey yesterday.'

'It's amazing on the ground, too,' Ron added. 'You feel like you're going really fast, even if you're only doing seventy miles an hour, it's brilliant.'

'You've already said that once, Ron,' Charlie said. 'And it's obvious from the stupid grin on your face that you think "it's brilliant".'

They were still discussing the bike ten minutes later, when Hermione and Ginny arrived. Harry, who'd been listening out for Ginny's arrival, heard the car approaching down the track. He left the Weasley men clustered around the bike and dashed across to the five-bar gate which he'd flown over. It was some distance from the yard, and he wasn't quite quick enough. By the time he reached the gate, Hermione had stopped her car, and Ginny had climbed out from it. As he reached the gate and unlatched it, Ginny leaned into the car, and spoke.

'Just go, I'll walk back with Harry,' she said. 'Don't worry, Hermione, I'll tell him,' she added as she closed the car door. Harry pulled open the gate, and waved Hermione through with a bow and a flourish. Hermione, however, didn't seem to be amused.

'Hermione thinks that you were driving much too fast, and that your overtaking manoeuvre was dangerous. I promised her that I'll tell you off,' said Ginny by way of greeting, as she followed the car through the gate. She raised her hand and wagged an admonishing finger. 'Never do that again—within sight of Hermione,' she told him with a wink. Harry grinned, and closed the gate.

'Don't let Hermione catch me doing something she doesn't approve of. Got it,' he said.

'I'm very disappointed in you, Harry,' Ginny told him seriously. 'I thought you'd learned that lesson years ago.'

Harry laughed. 'When I'm enjoying myself, I forget,' he said.

He turned, leaned against the gate, and took in the scene. Ginny grabbed his shoulders, kissed him, and then moved alongside him and slipped her arm around his waist. He reciprocated and they looked over the family scene being enacted in front of them.

'My house in Beaumaris is nice, but in a lot of ways this is still my home,' Ginny said contentedly, 'especially when the family are all here.'

Molly's extended family had a standing invitation to Sunday lunch at The Burrow once a fortnight. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and George rarely missed this opportunity for a big family meal. Percy, together with Bill, Fleur and Victoire were also regular, though not so frequent, attendees. Charlie, however, only made it across from Romania for special occasions, like today, Easter Sunday.

The Weasleys' eccentric and rather ramshackle home was about a hundred yards from where Harry and Ginny stood and watched. The Burrow was nestled in a hollow, and bathed in spring sunshine. On the hill behind the house the orchard was beginning to blossom, creating an idyllic scene. The Weasley clan was gathering on the gravel yard in front of the kitchen door. Harry let out a contented murmur as he leaned against the gate in the arms of his girl. He watched her family, the only family he had, and wondered whether he would ever be relaxed and comfortable in the presence of the Dursleys. Ginny seemed to sense his mood, as she squeezed his waist in reassurance.

Fleur, with little Victoire cradled on her hip, had joined Bill, Charlie, and Arthur next to the bike. As Harry watched, Bill took the newest Weasley from his wife's arms and sat the little girl on the bike. Charlie was pulling faces at Victoire. Arthur, his arms flailing enthusiastically, was obviously expounding on something to Fleur. Harry was confident that it would almost certainly be something technical, which Arthur didn't actually understand himself, but he knew that wouldn't prevent him from attempting to explain it. Fleur was smiling and nodding with a polite grace which only she could muster.

Ron had walked over to greet Hermione and they were standing next to her car. He'd been smiling as he'd approached. Now, from his stance and hers, it was obvious that he was being berated by his girlfriend.

'Don't blame me, Hermione. It's Harry's fault. He was driving, and it was his idea to land behind you and to overtake you at ninety miles an hour,' said Ginny in a fair approximation of her brother's tone. As she spoke, Ron's defensive stance vanished, and Hermione appeared flustered. 'But, you know, you're bloody gorgeous when you're annoyed,' Ginny added, still mimicking Ron.

Harry chuckled. 'He's obviously said something to knock her off her stride, but "bloody gorgeous"? I don't know about that.'

There was a distant popping noise, and they both looked up to the orchard.

'Perce and Audrey,' said Ginny, surprised. 'They're very late, for them at least. It's a little after one.'

They both watched Percy and his fiancée, Audrey Midgen, move out from under the trees. Percy's hands were clasped behind his back, and he was striding away from his girlfriend.

'Have I told you about the new Ministry parchment order, I masterminded, Audrey? Don't dawdle, please,' said Harry, joining in his girlfriend's game and suggesting dialogue for her bespectacled brother. As he spoke, Percy stopped, and moved his hands. Audrey caught up, and, to Harry's astonishment smacked Percy's bottom.

'I weren't dawdling, I were trying to admire yer arse, but yer hands were covering it, ye daft sod,' Ginny provided as she tried to mimic Audrey's Yorkshire accent. They both burst out laughing.

'Time to go and say hello,' said Ginny. She took Harry's hand and they left their vantage point at the gate. As they strolled forwards, they were still chuckling.

'I wonder if George is here yet?' asked Harry as they walked hand-in-hand towards Ginny's family.

'Definitely not,' said Ginny. 'If he was, he'd be looking at the bike with the others.'

'I hope he doesn't bring Romilda again,' said Harry, shuddering.

'You're only saying that because of the bet,' Ginny teased. 'The money is yours, and you know it is. He wouldn't dare bring her back. Mum would kill him.' Ginny paused. 'Actually, there would be a queue, and I think Dad would be first. He actually went to the shop last week and "had a word" with George about his guests. He might come alone.'

As they approached the others, Charlie turned and strolled over to greet them. He held out a hand, which Harry took.

'Hello, Harry,' Charlie said as they shook hands. Charlie's hand was calloused and his grip was firm. 'Good to see you.'

'Hello, Charlie, it's been a while,' Harry replied. 'How are things in Romania?'

'Fine,' said Charlie. 'That friend of yours is settling in, but I don't think he'll stay.'

'I don't think Justin wants a career as a dragon-handler,' said Harry.

'He doesn't. He's either seeing the wizarding world, or avoiding one, or more, of his exes,' said Ginny. She stepped up to her brother and poked his stomach. 'Hello dragon-boy, you're getting fat. You only visit at Christmas and Easter! It would make Mum happy if you were home more often.'

'Hello, Harpy,' said Charlie as he pulled his sister into a bone-crushing hug. 'Still cheeking your betters, I see! Why should I always be the one to travel? You could always come and visit me. I've invited Mum and Dad; they're thinking about it. Let's face it, these days they can afford a proper holiday.'

As he spoke there was another popping noise in the distance, and they all looked up the hill towards the orchard.

'Blimey!' said Harry.

'Angelina,' Ginny said, as she looked at the young woman accompanying George down the hill.

'Angelina,' said Charlie thoughtfully. He stared at the tall black girl, a puzzled look on his face. 'Is her last name Johnson? Is she the little second year who joined the Gryffindor team in my final year?'

'Yes,' said Harry and Ginny simultaneously.

'Blimey, she's grown up,' said Charlie. 'I'd never have recognised her. She was a goofy little thing, but bloody good in the air.'

'And she's definitely not Romilda, Harry, so you win the sweep again,' said Ginny.

'Sweep?' asked Charlie.

'If you turned up more often, you'd know about the "George's Girlfriend Sweepstake",' Ginny told her brother. 'He usually brings a girl to dinner and we always put money on how many times she'll be back. The record so far is nine visits. Verity, who used to work for him, and Fleur's cousin Claudine, both lasted that long. Two weeks ago, on his birthday, he brought Romilda Vane. Harry chose "once only". It was a safe bet really, nobody thought _she_ would be coming back.'

'Better warn Justin when you get back to Romania,' Harry said, 'Ron and I reckon that apart from Dennis Creevey, he's the only male DA member Romilda hasn't made a pass at.'

'Don't be silly, Harry,' Ginny told him, 'There's Lee, Seamus, Terry and Michael too. Maybe we should start a book on Romilda, Harry. Which boy is next?'

Charlie listened in astonishment to his sister, snorting in disbelief.

'The winner gets first pick.' Ginny ignored her brother, 'So Harry?'

'Angelina will be another one off,' Harry said, handing back one of the Galleons.

'Are you in Charlie?' Ginny asked. 'Best be quick, Ron's on his way to place his bet.'

'This is cruel,' Charlie said.

'We'd bet on you too, if we thought there was a chance you'd ever bring a girl home, or a boy.' Ginny told him.

'You're a brave man, Harry, sticking with this spitfire,' Charlie grinned, 'I'll take six visits.' He handed Ginny a galleon.

'I'll take a hundred, or more,' Ginny said as Ron arrived. Harry looked at her in astonishment, and did a quick calculation.

'A hundred fortnights, that's almost four years!' Harry said. 'You're kidding.'

'Yeah, that's ridiculous, Ginny,' said Ron as he joined them.

Ginny shook her head. 'You'll see,' she told them confidently. 'What about you, Ron?'

'It's another one off,' said Ron.

'Too late,' Harry told him. 'We all know that they're usually one-offs in April, and until after Battle Remembrance Day in May.'

'Sod,' Ron replied. 'Okay, I'll take two visits.'

'Right, that only leaves Bill and Perce,' said Ginny.

'Perce is in?' Charlie asked.

'He wasn't at first, but Audrey told him he was being boring, so he changed his mind.' Ginny looked past Charlie, and waved. 'Hi, Angelina. Charlie wants to know if you're the goofy little second year who joined his Quidditch team.'

* * *

Molly had excelled herself. In the years since The Battle, Harry had become used to the idea that Easter was almost another Christmas. When, at two o'clock, Molly called everyone into the kitchen, the table was groaning under the weight of an almost ostrich-sized turkey with all the trimmings.

Before everyone took their seats, they ritually exchanged chocolate eggs. Angelina apologised to Molly for not bringing eggs for everyone.

'In my family, only the little children get eggs,' Angelina told her, fishing a large Honeydukes' egg from her bag and presenting it to Victoire, who, with eggs from her grandparents, uncles, and aunt, was almost lost in the mountain of chocolate.

'So, where's mine?' George asked. 'You keep telling me I'm childish.'

'I do, don't I?' said Angelina. 'I know what you're like George, yours is here.'

She pulled a small egg from her bag which, despite his mother's protestations, George insisted on eating as his first course.

'It's only a mouthful,' he said defiantly, as Molly placed a tray of roast potatoes onto the table in front of him. His mother reached for her wand, but before she could stop him, George pushed the whole egg into his mouth, bit down hard, and began to chew.

'Something wrong, George?' Ginny asked as she passed a bowl of glazed carrots down the table to Fleur.

Harry, who had been pouring gravy onto his already fully laden plate, looked across the table and realised that George was sweating. Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched as George's face reddened. For a moment Harry thought that George, his cheeks bulging, was going to spit the masticated mess of chocolate out onto his plate. A lava-hot glare, and the word 'Manners,' from his mother, was enough to stop him.

'Don't you like the egg?' Angelina asked solicitously. 'Last weekend, after we'd been to that fish and chip restaurant, you told me that you preferred spicy food. So I bought you a chocolate and jalapeno Easter egg.'

A nasal, 'Hnnnng,' was all George could manage as his family erupted with laughter.

Eyes bulging, George swallowed, gasped, and gulped down the glass of white wine in front of him. 'More,' he demanded. Molly shook her head firmly, and instead poured him a large glass of water, which he also downed.

'That wasn't fair. I didn't do anything to deserve that!' George protested as he used his napkin to wipe the sweat from beneath his eyes.

'Your mum told you not to eat it,' Angelina told him. 'Perhaps you should listen to her.'

'You should,' said his mother, nodding. There was laughter, and murmurs of agreement, from around the table.

'You're my family! Why is no one on my side?' asked George petulantly.

'Romilda,' Ginny managed to say the name while noisily clearing her throat, and the laughter continued.

'You want stuffing, George?' asked Percy. He had a spoonful of sage and onion in his hand, but there was a mild threat in his voice. Audrey gave a surprisingly guttural chortle.

'I hate you all,' said George cheerfully. He shook his head, and began to pile food his plate.

As was often the case at The Burrow, it was one of those meals where there wasn't enough room on the table for all of the food. Even so the dishes were quickly emptied, and the main course seemed to be finished in no time. Harry was certain that this was because the conversation around the laden table had been full of bad jokes and good cheer. It was definitely much more upbeat and enjoyable than the disastrous meal two weeks earlier, from which he and Ginny had fled. George's Birthday dinner was always a little awkward, but George's guest, Romilda, had managed to insult almost everyone at the table. As a consequence that meal had seemed to drag on forever.

When Ron finally finished eating, Molly stood and began to clear the table. George, too, stood and began to help his mother. As last to arrive, it was his job to help his mother clear the table. Despite Molly's protests, Angelina also helped. It took them only moments to clear the table and, the moment the main course had been removed, Fleur pulled out her wand.

'Fleur has made dessert,' said Molly. She sounded slightly worried.

'This is Maman's recipe, Clafoutis aux Cerises,' Fleur announced. She levitated several large pie dishes onto the table. 'I think you would call this cherry pie, but...'

'It isn't like any cherry pie you'll have eaten. If you need to know, it's whole cherries baked in a sort of custard,' said Bill, coming to the aid of his wife. 'But really, it's Clafoutis aux Cerises, and it's delicious. One word of warning: when I say whole cherries, I mean it. They haven't been stoned.'

Harry took his first bite, and agreed with Bill's assessment; it was delicious. Soon Fleur, who was the only one at the table able to decorously remove the cherry stones from her mouth, was basking in praise. From Harry's perspective dessert, too, seemed to be over in an instant.

After the table was cleared and the dishes washed, everyone trooped outside. Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur and Charlie were happy to sit in the garden and watch over Victoire. Percy managed to corner Hermione, as he had some important ideas for improvements to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Harry managed to avoid being dragged into the conversation, and he and Ginny strolled up to the orchard. They settled themselves under a tree, leaned against the trunk, and looked out over the countryside.

'It's another nice day,' said Ginny.

'It's always a nice day when I'm with you,' said Harry promptly. Ginny elbowed him in the ribs.

'I've read your copy of "Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches" you know,' she told him. 'I found it under the sofa in your sitting room last weekend.'

'I wondered where it had gone,' Harry said. 'I haven't read it yet. Got any tips for me?'

'I don't believe you,' she said.

'I haven't,' he protested. 'Ron gave it to me on my seventeenth, but your present distracted me, and then things got a bit hectic. I found it a couple of weeks ago; when I finally unpacked all of the stuff I'd left at The Burrow. Your Dad gave me a box full of stuff after the funerals, but all I did was bring it all home and put it in the attic.'

'Things got a bit hectic,' said Ginny, grinning at him. 'You're a master at understatement, Harry.'

'So on those occasions I tell you that you're gorgeous, just think about what I'm really trying to say,' he told her.

'You must have read the damn book,' Ginny protested.

'Perhaps I'm simply happy,' he suggested. 'Like those two.' He gestured towards George and Angelina, who were strolling up the hill towards them, bickering and joking. 'It's nice to see George smile,' Harry observed. 'But I don't think Angelina will be back after that trick with the Easter egg.'

'It is nice,' Ginny agreed. 'And I'm certain that she will be back _because_ of that trick with the Easter egg.'

Harry shrugged, and they watched George and Angelina approach.

'Not interrupting anything, are we?' George asked as he dropped down on to the grass, facing Harry and Ginny.

'I was thinking about jumping on Harry, what do you want?' Ginny asked.

'I saw Dennis at the start of the Easter holidays,' said George, staring accusingly at Harry. 'He wants to know what's going on. You could let him know, Harry.'

'I've got nothing to tell him,' Harry said, shaking his head in regret. 'When there is, he'll be the first to know.'

'Know about what?' Angelina asked as she lowered herself to sit alongside George.

'You know that Harry found out who killed Colin Creevey, don't you?' Ginny asked.

'Of course,' said Angelina. 'Alicia and Lee told me last year. It was that vicious Slytherin Beater, Gregory Goyle. They said we all had to keep a look out for a company called Mark D'arque, and for alcoholic pumpkin juice. They also said Goyle was likely to be with Marcus Flint, Miles Bletchley, and a couple of Slytherin girls from Harry's year.'

'Millicent Bullstrode and Daphne Greengrass, yes,' Harry told her. He turned to address George directly. 'Finding Goyle is my top priority, George. We've been running down possible sightings from Shetland to Penzance and—it seems like—everywhere in between. They've all been false alarms. There is no sign of Goyle, or any of the others, anywhere; there hasn't been for a year. If you've got any bright ideas about how to find them I'd like to hear them, because at the moment we've got nothing. We've been watching their accounts, but there has been no activity in any of them. Ron is convinced that they haven't touched their account because Draco Malfoy has told them that's how we managed to track Rabastan Lestrange.'

'Harry thinks that Malfoy won't have told them, because he's changed,' said Ginny. 'I agree with Ron. I haven't seen anything to persuade me that he isn't the same nasty, cowardly little bully he's always been.'

'Narcissa Malfoy is convinced that Goyle wants to kill Draco, and so is Draco. I think the Malfoys have told use everything they know because they want Goyle captured.' Harry looked at his girlfriend apologetically, unwilling to argue. 'Susan, Lavender and Terry have been working on the assumption that it's Theodore Nott, not Malfoy, who is feeding information to the fugitives, 'Personally, I think that it's more likely that Nott is telling Pansy, and Pansy is talking to Daphne.'

'Theodore Nott, eh?' said George. 'I've heard a lot about the Notts, and their business practices. The rumours say that they were the only people old man Parkinson wasn't prepared to cross. They say that if you annoy them, something nasty will happen to you. But no one can ever prove that the Notts had anything to do with it.'

'Yeah,' said Harry grimly. 'You should see the files Susan and Terry have compiled on Theodore Nott.' He placed his hands more than a yard apart to demonstrate. 'But Theodore Nott definitely hasn't been transferring money to them, so we have no idea what they are living on, or where they are buying stuff. The wanted posters are everywhere, but every sighting we've had has been a case of mistaken identity.'

'Perhaps they are hiding in the Muggle world,' Ron suggested, as he and a rather flustered looking Hermione joined them under the trees.

'Don't be silly, Ron,' Hermione said. 'They're all Muggle-hating Purebloods. They'd never live among Muggles, they're simply using Polyjuice potion.'

'That's why the legislation has been amended to include Boomslang skin and Bicorn horn in the list of Class B Tradeable Materials, isn't it?' asked Angelina, suddenly enlightened. 'You're trying to reduce the availability of Polyjuice potion ingredients.'

Harry nodded.

'That explains a lot,' said Angelina. 'It's created a lot of extra work for us poor folk in "Magical Creatures", hasn't it, Hermione?'

Hermione nodded. 'But not as much as the reorganisation Percy has just suggested,' she said. 'Honestly, Ginny, I know that Percy often has good ideas, but sometimes I think he simply likes to create more paperwork for everyone.'

'I thought you enjoyed paperwork, Hermione,' said Ginny.

'Yes, we work for the Ministry, Hermione,' Angelina reminded her. 'Paperwork comes with the job; we might as well enjoy it.' She looked at the assembled group. 'So, there's no sign of anyone on your "Most Wanted" list?'

'No,' Ron confirmed. 'If only there was a way to break a Fidelius Charm.'

Angelina looked puzzled.

'We have information that Goyle's parent's house is hidden under a Fidelius Charm and we're working on the theory that they are hiding there, and only coming out for supplies,' Harry explained. 'We even think we know where. According to Malfoy, the Goyles lived in a place called Garr Hall. It's supposedly on an island off the west coast of Ireland, one of the Gorumna Islands. But it seems that the entire island is hidden under the Charm.'

'Enough Auror talk,' said Ginny. 'Where did you buy that chocolate egg, Angelina? There are a couple of Harpies I'd like to buy a nice present for.'

The afternoon flew over, and before Harry knew it, it was dusk and they were being fed what Molly considered to be "a light tea". There was a mountain of cold meat, pickles, freshly baked bread, and salad to plough through. Bill, Fleur and a very sleepy Victoire departed soon after tea, and Percy and Audrey followed closely behind. Angelina, however, resisted George's attempts to drag her away and instead insisted that they stay and join in a game of exploding snap.

Harry, along with Ron, Ginny and Hermione were staying overnight, and travelling to Hermione's parents' house the following morning. Harry and Ron shared George and Fred's old room, Ginny and Hermione shared Bill and Charlie's old room, and Charlie was relegated to Ron's old room in the attic.

Ginny's suggestion, at Christmas, that she and Harry might share had been dismissed by Molly and accompanied by a very long lecture, the recollection of which still made Harry squirm. It was obvious that Molly knew that Ginny and Harry often spent the night together, but also that she would not allow it under her own roof. Ginny had, for once, given in to her mother's wishes.

After breakfast at The Burrow, Ron and Hermione said their farewells. After a hug and kiss from Charlie which left her rather flustered, Hermione set off to drive her boyfriend the hundred miles back to her parents' home in Itchen Worthy. Harry and Ginny waited for twenty minutes before following, because Ginny wanted to know how fast the bike would go on the ground. Despite their delayed start, they managed to catch Hermione just after Winchester. At that point Harry slowed down, and they stayed behind Hermione for the final few miles of the journey.

Hermione's Aunt Gerry and Uncle Alan were good, if inquisitive, company, and the four youngsters spent a pleasant and relaxing Easter Monday with them, and with Hermione's parents. When Alan and Gerry Barker discovered that Hermione's flat was in Chelsea, and that it overlooked the Thames, several hints were dropped. Hermione gave in to the inevitable, and invited them to spend a weekend in the city. The evening ended with a meal in the local pub, "The Cricketers", and it was late in the evening when Harry and Ginny on the bike, and Ron and Hermione in the Mini, finally set out to return to London.


End file.
